Prof. Dr. Lawrence A. Babb
The Pustimarg is considered a Hindu sect. Have we, then, discovered an essential difference between Jainism and Hinduism? Not quite, for it turns out that Jain ritual culture has close parallels in what is generally regarded as the "Hindu" world. An example is Saiva Siddhanta. Let me stress that a comparison of Jain and Saiva ritual culture is not suggested - as is our Jain-Vaisnava comparison - by close regional and social juxtaposition. Rather, in this case comparison finds its rationale in the existence of structural similarities. These similarities raise serious questions about the validity of the conventional Jain-Hindu boundary and may also point to structural unities underlying South Asian ritual cultures.
Similarities between the ritual cultures of Jainism and Saiva Siddhanta are quite striking, especially in the treatment of food offerings. From the fine recent account of Richard H. Davis (1991) we learn that the Saiva worshiper makes offerings to Lord Siva, but they are not afterwards consumed by the offerers.[1] Instead of being reclaimed by worshipers, the forbidden leftovers, called nirmalya,[2] are offered to a fearsome deity named Canda who seems to function as a kind of temple guardian. Afterwards, the now twice-offered materials of worship are burnt, buried, submerged, or given to animals.
What are we to make of this? When we look more closely at Saiva ritual culture, we see an overlay of themes reminiscent of the Pustimarg. We also see, however, what appears to be a deeper affinity with Jain ritual culture. Let me say that it is not my intention to characterize Saiva Siddhanta as an entire ritual tradition; I am concerned, rather, with the admittedly narrow issue of ritual exchanges. What interests me is that, from this perspective, it is almost as if Saiva ritual culture is Jainism in a "Hindu" guise.
As in the Pustimarg, in Saiva ritual the deity is a transacting "presence." Siva is believed to "descend" (Davis 1991: 128-33) into the linga, which is seen as a "physical support" for his presence (ibid.: 122). Moreover, Siva actually does receive the offerings, which provide him "with pleasurable sensory experience while he is embodied and present in the shrine" (ibid.: 150). As in the Pustimarg, the offerer even offers himself; he moves from giving other substances to "giving his own inner constituents to Siva, ending with his most essential part, the soul" (ibid.: 153).
But we must also note strong echoes of themes that we have encountered among the Jains. To begin with, the Saivas seem to share with the Jains the notion that worshiper and worshiped do not "merge." In this respect both traditions contrast similarly with the Pustimarg. As among the Jains, the relationship between worshiper and worshiped postulated by the Saivas seems, at least in some respects, more metaphorical than tangible. In accordance with the well-known formula," 'Only a Siva can worship Siva'" (ibid.: 52), the Saiva worshiper metamorphoses his body into a Siva-like form. But actual merger is not the goal of Saiva ritual; one seeks not to become Siva, but to become a Siva (that is, just as a Jain should become a siddha). "A liberated soul," says Davis, "does not merge into divinity or become united with him, as some other systems of Hindu philosophy assert. Nor does it enter again into the manifest cosmos. Rather, it remains as an autonomous theomorphic entity, separate from Siva but with all his powers and qualities" (ibid.: 83; my italics). The central goal of the ritual act is to transform the actor into a Siva-like state by means of what is called atmasuddhi, soul-purification; the ultimate aim is to achieve this condition permanently. Atmasuddhi purifies the soul by means of a ritual transformation of the body, and this is viewed as a "rehearsal" for the ritualist's final liberation (ibid.: 101).
Furthermore, as do the Jains, the Saivas emphasize ritual reflexivity. Although the Saivas state that Siva's grace is a necessary precondition for the removal of binding fetters (ibid.: 28-29), the logic of ritual is based on the idea of self-transformation. The Saiva worshiper, Davis says, "exercises his own capacities of self-transformation, both rehearsing his final liberation and at the same time gradually bringing it about" (ibid.: 101).[3] Saiva ritual therefore also echoes the Jain theme of ritual emulation. The ultimate goal of the ritual act is the purification of the soul in emulation of Siva's own qualities.
What, then, becomes of the unrecovered offerings? Between the Jains and the Saivas the basic practice is the same, but there are apparent differences. Among the Jains, the nonreturnability of offerings has to do with the asceticism of the object of worship and the worshiper's reflexive asceticism. The offering is unrecovered because it bears negative value that cannot be transmuted into something positive. Among the Saivas, however, the issue seems to be "purity," a positive value. "Contact with Siva," says Davis, "has rendered the nirmalya immaculate, yet human worshipers continue to inhabit bodies infested with mala and so are not able to bear contact with so much pureness" (ibid.: 156). Siva says (in one Purana) that to consume his leavings is equivalent to a Sudra studying the Vedas, and will lead to the consumer's destruction. Thus, because it is too positive to be borne by humans, the leftover offering has to be given to Canda instead. "In contrast to humans," Davis says, "Canda is able to bear the intense purity of nirmalya, presumably by means of his own ardent character" (ibid.: 157).
There is, however, another possible angle on this issue. Davis says, "Worshiping Canda has a second purpose as well. Not only does it present the nirmalya to an appropriate recipient, it also removes any faults (dosa) the priest may have committed while worshiping the linga.... Like Siva's own power of reabsorbtion, the fierce Canda removes and absorbs a host of things: the afflictions of his devotees, mistakes made in worshiping Siva, and Siva's too-pure leftovers" (ibid.: 157).[4]
Now it is not for us to tell the Saivas what they mean. But if we bracket the "too pure" formula and instead emphasize the possibility that offerings carry, or at least resonate with, negativities - faults, afflictions, and so on - then we can make good sense of the pattern, for it bears a strong resemblance to the pattern we have called "Jain." Offerings of food, for the Jains, carry negative value; in harmony with the prevailing ascetic outlook, they are shed in the context of the ritual encounter. It seems possible that the Saiva offering also carries a negative burden. In this context it may be significant that, as do the Jains, the Saivas see the act of making offerings as a form of "abandonment" (tyaga) (ibid.: 159).
What actually transpires between Siva and any offering-borne negativity? We know that Siva consumes only that portion of the offering that has (by ritual means) been infused with his nature (sivatva), not the physical part (ibid.: 154). Can "faults" be made into Siva? I think the answer is no; I suspect this precisely because the negativities seem to be passed along to Canda, who must then deal with them somehow. When the Saivas say that the offering is "too pure" to be recovered by the offerers, this may cover a deeper idea that Siva, unlike the Pustimarg's Krsna, is not a deity who transforms and returns, but a being who - like the Tirthankar - presides over ritualizations in the reflexive and emulatory mode.
Similarities between Jain and Saiva ritual patterns make theological sense. Unlike the "wealthy" deity of the Vaisnavas, neither Tirthankar nor Siva is a very good candidate for dense transactional relationships with worshipers. The Tirthankar is an ascetic. So is Siva. The Tirthankar is entirely nontransactive. Siva seems minimally so. He does in some sense receive the offering, but in the end it, or at least the physical part of it, is passed to another being. Whatever their differences, Jain and Saiva ritual cultures seem to be shaped in similar ways by the worship of divine beings who transact thinly, not thickly, with devotees.
The Saivas also believe, as do the Jains, that worship can generate material benefits (Davis 1991: 154). The mechanism seems to be karmic amelioration.
It is interesting to note a much stronger assertion of what seems to be the same theme in the Kapalika sect, a now-extinct, disreputable cousin of mainstream Saivism. The Kapalikas propitiated Bhairava, a fierce form of Siva, by means of sacrifice. Though the victim (apparently sometimes human) needed to be pure and auspicious, he was regarded "as a scapegoat, the repository of the transgressions of the sacrificers" (Lorenzen 1972: 85). Whether such offerings were then consumed by the offerers is not clear from Lorenzen's account. Among the Kapalikas, too, the theme of emulation was very strong; the idea of sacrifice found an echo in the notion of self-sacrificial penance. At the center of Kapalika praxis was the mahavrata, which required the votary to imitate Siva's penance (as Bhairava) for the sin of Brahmanicide (ibid.: 73-82). But it must also be said that, in contradistinction to what seems to be the Saiva Siddhanta pattern, the idea of actual consubstantiation with Siva seems to have played an important role in the Kapalikas' tantric rituals (ibid.: 88-93).
